


First Order Slut

by HQK



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Bratty Reader, Commander Kylo Ren - Freeform, Dom/sub Undertones, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Kylo Ren Angst, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Oral Sex, Other, Penis In Vagina Sex, Possessive Kylo Ren, Reader Insert, Second Person, Smut, Spanking, Top Kylo Ren, kylo ren drabbles, kylo ren imagines, more specific warnings with each piece, no y/n
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 10,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27248947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HQK/pseuds/HQK
Summary: A collection of my Kylo Ren/Reader requests from tumblr. Most are NSFW and will have more specific warnings at the beginning of each piece. Just a bunch of little stories about you being a massive slut while working for the Order. Come check me out @star-killer-md
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Kudos: 17





	1. Giving Kylo Ren a blowjob on his throne

Kylo’s hand in your hair forces your head down onto his cock. You choke and gag, but do your best not to pull away. 

He’s moaning softly above you and the sound is maddening. You want to pull more from him, want to crack your way through his mask and see his handsome face twist in unbridled pleasure. You take him deeper—flick your tongue over the sensitive tip and hollow your cheeks—humming intently when he whines your name. 

“Gods,” he gasps, “filthy girl.” 

You know he’s right, know exactly how you must look kneeling between his legs, his cock dipping past your lips and down your throat, spit dripping down your chin and onto your bare breasts. 

But Kylo is fairing no better. 

You flick your eyes up to meet his gaze and a rush of warmth runs through you. His chest is splotched in red, the blush spreading over his cheeks and the tips of his ears. His mouth open, mid-groan and his brows pinched as he climbs to his peak. 

He’s beautiful like this, you think. And stars, you want more. Want to break him. Want to watch him fall apart. 

You increase your pace, urge him to cum on your tongue, to mark you. His hips buck up sporadically, forcing your nose into the patch of dark hair at the base of his cock. You breath him in willingly, savoring the musky smell of it: fresh and dark and so human. 

He’s close and you know it, can feel it in the way he pulses between your lips and how his thighs tremble against your neck. A plethora of words tumble from his lovely, plush lips. Curses in tongues you don’t understand, but your can hear your name scattered among them. Can tell he’s trying not to beg you to take him deeper, to take him harder, to give him more. 

A hand falls to your shoulder, squeezing and clawing at the flesh there before you take it in your own. He lets you intertwine your fingers, holding on as his orgasm crashes over him. 

Kylo nearly screams—nearly sobs—shooting hot streams of cum so far down your throat you can’t even taste it. You work him through it, bobbing your head and milking him for as long as you can until he shakes, raw with oversensitivity. His deep brown eyes are blown wide with lust and satisfaction as he watches you swallow down everything he has to give. 

When he pulls you off, the wet pop echoes through the throne room, leaving a vacuum for the silence that follows. For a moment, the only sounds are your combined breathing, panting and heavy and sated. You fall back on your heels, taking him in: legs spread wide, admittedly massive dick lying soft against his muscular thigh, skin coated in a sheen of sweat and tinged beautifully pink. 

Filthy, you think, and magnificent. 

As you commit the scene to memory—too use for your own private fantasies—some strange, unexplainable warmth settles deep in the pit of your stomach. It rolls between your ribs and makes your face feel hot. You can’t name the sensation now, so you tuck it away, content to simply let your ego swell as you take in Kylo Ren’s thoroughly debauched visage. 

You feel his hand still fisted in your hair loosens its grip and fall to your cheek. The tenderness of the gesture makes you stall, makes you swell, makes you ache. 

And you lean into it. 

You nuzzle softly into his palm, leaving a small kiss on the calloused skin in the center.


	2. Kylo fucking you while the Knights watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: bratty reader, read the title  
> Based on this ask: are u horny for the knights of ren bc i am right now and all i can think about is kylo using them as a form of humiliation/ punishment like having them watch as kylo absolutely obliterates u and ur just a mumbling mess kylo says something like “ur such a flithy slut, putting a performance on for my knights” or “i bet u enjoy them watching u take my cock so well” im soRRYHESHSH

You’re one of his advisors–or maybe another knight yourself–just someone who has to work closely with Supreme Leader Ren. And you never see eye to eye. He can tell you don’t agree, when you’re in meetings or discussing mission plans, he can feel your silent dissent. 

He wants to tell you you’re foolish, that you’re a prideful little whore for thinking you would ever know better than him, Kylo Ren, and you need to be put in your place. But you aren’t stupid, and you keep your mouth shut. 

So he waits. Sits back and waits for the moment you slip and he can finally give you the punishment you deserve. 

It doesn’t take very long. 

You’re in one of the command centers, going over strategy for the First Orders newest invasion plan. Kylo is there, surrounded by his Knights, running through how they will take the planet head on, by sheer brute force when he notices it. The twitch in your eye, the way you’re nearly vibrating in your seat, and he casts the bait. 

“Is there something you’d like to add?”

He watches are your eyes flick to him, fully uniformed in his cloak and mask, he watches the line sink its hook into your mouth. 

“Only that it seems you haven’t considered our other options, Supreme Leader.” 

He’s smirking but you can’t see it. Now all that’s left to do is reel you in. 

“Come here,” he says, motioning with a finger that wraps tendrils of the Force around you, drawing you to him even as you struggle. 

Your eyes are wide but indignant still. He can’t wait to watch your ego shatter under his hand. 

The Knights remain silent, forming a ring around the two of you. He can feel their excitement, they’ve been waiting for this too. 

“What is it that you think I haven’t considered?”

Your struggling against the invisible bonds that keep you pinned to the spot in front of him. He loves how small you look, flanked by Knights as he towers over you. 

“Force isn’t the only solution,” you grit from bared teeth. 

He watches you boil over, trapped and powerless but not yet stripped of your dignity. 

He could fix that, though. 

You try to pull away as his black, leather hand closed around your throat in one swift motion, slamming your back down onto the massive conference table. He revels in the way your eyes roll in your head at the impact.

“You’re an arrogant little slut, aren’t you?” he mused, nearly laughing at how quickly your hands scrambled to grab at his wrist. 

His grip was too tight to allow you to answer, but he could hear it echo in your head. 

No. 

Still as defiant as ever, but that was alright. It just made the next part all the more enjoyable. 

“Yes you are,” he chuckles as the Force pins your wrists above your head, “do you know what happens to insufferable little girls who don’t respect their superiors?” 

You kicked your legs up, but he easily snatches your flailing calf in his free hand. He savors the way your grow panicked as he leans over you. 

“They have to be taught a lesson.” 

The Force rips the boots straight from your feet, as he tears your uniform trousers clean off your legs, letting them pool on the floor. You’re completely bare from the bottom down, on display for Kylo and the Knights to see. He thinks you look delicious, already slick for him. 

He runs his thumb lightly over your slit, feeling you squirm and twist under him. His grip on your throat tightens until you still. 

“Now,” he says, bringing his finger, soaked now, and pressing it between your lips, “you’re going to be a good girl and take my cock and you aren’t going to talk back.” 

You’re staring at him, and he can tell your cracking as he slips his hard on from free from his pants. He can feel your mouth water when you look down at him. It was time to put the final nail in the coffin. 

Kylo nearly chokes when he finally plunges into your wet heat. The Knights feel echos of how tight and hot and gorgeous your pussy feels clamping down around him. Your mouth is open in a silent scream, but no sound escapes with his hand still pressing into your throat. 

He’s sure it hurts, sure it must burn with how massive he is. He can just barely sink all the way into you before he meets resistance. 

“Look at you,” he groans, pulling out all the way and leaving you empty for just a second before thrusting back in to the hilt. “You’re taking me so well, maybe you can follow order better than I thought.” 

Your biting your lip, and his breath catches when you actually roll your hips down to meet him. 

“You’re such a filthy little girl,” he snaps harshly into your cunt, listening to the wet slap of his skin on yours. He wants to cum in you, make you drip with his seed as a reminder of what’s happened here. 

“Putting on a performance for my Knights,” he’s getting closer with every clenching of your walls. You want to cum too but he won’t let you. Not this time. “I bet you enjoy them watching while you take me.” 

You feel better than he thought, it giving him dangerous inclinations. He pumped his hips faster, hearing you scream in your head. You liked it, that was the only thought rattling around in your head. How good he felt tearing you apart. 

It pushed him over the edge. 

Kylo shouted with it, the force of his release washing over him and pouring into you. When he pulled out, cum dripped out of your pussy in a stream onto the table. He released your throat finally, listening to the way you gasped and choked before tucking himself away. 

The Knights all watched itching to touch you too, to take their turn, but he wouldn’t let them. 

You were just for him.


	3. Kylo and body worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warnings: body worship, blood play, naked female clothed male, angst cause its me  
> Based on this prompt: “I see you. i know you feel so invisible all the time, but you’re not. not to me. ” + One person tracing the other’s lips with a fingertip until they can’t resist any longer, tilting their chin towards them for a kiss.

The Commander’s quarters are large, dark and overwhelming. 

Just like him—everything about him is overwhelming. 

You come here most nights, lay bare in his bed and let him push and pull you however he likes. He must like it, because he never asks you to leave. Never asked you to come in the first place really, but it’s routine now. Every night, your feet carry you to him and he doesn’t turn you away, so you stay until the room is empty and cold and the day cycle starts again. 

But tonight is different. 

The room is filled with the oppressive, iron smell of whoever’s blood is currently dripping from the Commander’s cape. Some traitorous officer turned Resistance maybe, or his own. But you can’t truly think of Kylo Ren ever bleeding. 

You like the way it looks on him, though. Reminds you how dangerous this creature is that hovers over you—naked and prone on his silk sheets. He’s covered but for his face, staring down his regal nose while you squirm under bloody scrutiny. 

Secretly, you like it though, when he stares. No one ever stares, no one ever sees you. 

“I do,” he mumbles

It’s just an afterthought, small and under his breath while he trails leather gloved fingertips up and down your leg, painting lovely red stripes against your skin. You gasp at the sound of his voice, unmodulated and clean. He almost never talks, always looks though.

Always. 

He wraps a hand around your ankle, lifting it to skim his fingers along your calf. His palm squeezes, making the muscles tense, massaging the blood and grime into your flesh. 

“Strong,” again the word is so soft you almost don’t hear it. 

Kylo’s face is nearly blank, eyes occasionally flicking to yours as his hands continue their journey up up up until your bucking your hips into him. And then he’s hushing you, and bringing his palm down to smack sharply on the skin of your side. A liquid scarlet imprint remains behind, marking his path over your body. 

You can’t help the whine that leaves your throat when his fingers move on, capturing your hand next. You’re so wet for him, desperate for him to fill you with the sticky, metallic evidence of his victory. You’d love it if he did, love it if he painted you his trophy, filled your pussy with his leather fingers, but he isn’t touching you where you need it. But, then again, maybe he is because you nearly choke when he brings your fingers to his lips and sucks two into his mouth. 

His tongue slips between them like velvet, so warm and lush and the sight of him—eyes closed for just a second, savoring the rough calluses—sends a rush of pleasure straight to your cunt.

“Capable,” he whispers once his mouth is unoccupied. 

Then his hand is traveling again, the worn leather creases catching on your nipple, warm blood soothing the roll of his fingers as they pause to cup your breast. He palms at your chest just once, listening intently to the soft whimper that falls from you before moving to tattoo a ring around your neck. 

“Commander?” you gaspwhinebeg, for what you don’t know but you need something, need anything. 

He says nothing, just presses his thumb into the vein in your throat that hums with your pulse, feels how it trembles and beats an erratic string of wanting for him. Kylo’s eyes stare fixedly now at your face, lifting his fingers to trace a rouge onto the soft bow of your lips. 

Around and around they swirl until the scent of blood and leather and skin is surrounding you in a heady cloud and Kylo’s face is drifting closer closer closer.

You feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes when his lips—so soft so plush like pillows—press against yours and dance. His tongue licks at your lips, spit and blood mixing and passing between your mouths as you moan into him. Crooked teeth nip at your bottom lip, sucking until it’s swollen and sore. You never want him to stop. 

You know that he won’t. 

Know that he’ll spend the rest of the night with his huge cock splitting you in two and pounding you into the headboard. Know that this is the softest you’ll ever get to see him. 

He pulls back, a string of milky red saliva connecting your mouths, and takes you in—covered in red that hugs your skin like the most expensive of silks, glistening in the dim light. 

“Wear this for me,” he pants into your ear. “Then they’ll see you.” 

And you know you will. 

You’ll wear it proudly.


	4. Kylo Ren spanking you for disobeying him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: spanking  
> Based on this ask:“Bend over, I’m not kidding.” For kylo please? Love your writing! ❤️🧡💚💜🤎💚💙🤍💛💜💚💙

His hand cracked across the soft, exposed flesh of your ass. The sound of it rang out, echoing in the vacant conference room. You tried weakly not to whine as the leather coated palm of his hand kneaded into the abused skin, tried not to let him know how much you liked the way it burned. 

“You need to learn some discipline, officer,” he grunted somewhere behind you. 

Your face was pressed firmly into the cool metal tabletop, his other hand pinning you by the neck and tangled in your hair. 

“I’m well versed in discipline, Commander.” you spat back, groaning as Ren landed another harsh smack to the back of your thighs. “But I don’t recall this particular form of punishment in the handbook.”

You could still hear his words in your head when you’d first come in for your performance review. 

“Bend over,” he said. “I’m not kidding.” 

It certainly was unorthodox, although you had expected some amount of negative reaction due to your annoying habit of speaking out of turn. Seems you’d pushed your luck one time too many and now the consequence of your actions was slowly dripping from you like liquid shame. 

Ren fingers skimmed along the raised imprint of his hand, dipping two impossibly thick fingers into your wet heat and circling teasingly at your entrance as he coated the leather in your slick. A moan rose in your throat, strangled by his grip on your neck. 

“Those lips can lie to me, but not these,” Kylo Ren’s palm connected full force with your drooling cunt. “Filthy, aren’t you, officer?”

Your pussy throbbed, flooding you with disgusting arousal. A shiver ran through you when he wrenched your head up from the table, masked face just inches from yours. 

“Aren’t you?” he growled, fingers pressing bruises into your throat. 

“Yes,” the words grated their way from you, worming through the gaps in your teeth—traitorous and painfully true. 

“Yes what?” Ren punctuated the statement with another clap of his palm to your ass.

This time you let the whimper escape as your body pitched forward under the force of his hand. 

“Yes, sir.”

Behind you Kylo Ren chuckled, deep and dark and dangerous at the thought of how close you were to snapping under his iron grip.


	5. Bratty reader talking back to dom!Kylo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “You’re gonna regret that sweetheart.” + “You’re in trouble now”
> 
> Warnings: Dom/sub vibes kinda, bratty reader, dom kylo, overstimulation, sorta forced orgasm, edging, kylo is a meanie

Your orgasm ripped through you like a saber blade, rending you straight down the middle. The strangled moan that accompanied it echoed through Kylo Ren’s quarters, settling shamefully in the space between your bodies. He frowned at you from across the room, trapping you under his gaze just as thoroughly as the tendrils of the Force that pinned you to the bed. 

“I don’t recall saying you could cum,” Kylo mused, standing from his chair to stare down at you, bare and writhing on his sheets. 

“You made me,” you hissed, squirming against your bonds. 

It’s been like this for hours. You talk out of turn once and he’s got you naked on his bed, right on the cusp of release all night. He doesn’t even have to touch you, just stuffs you full with an invisible cock that pumps into you just right and uses those unseen hands to rub endless circles on your clit until you’re sobbing and begging and pleading and–

“You’re in trouble now, officer.”

Judging by the look on his face, you knew he was right. And in a split second he had his hands on you. 

“Who does this cunt belong to?” he growled into your ear, palm slamming down on the soaked, oversensitive space between your thighs.

You choked on a sob at the sting and the Force still pounding deep inside you. 

“You, sir,” you whimpered. 

“And I decide when it gets to cum.” 

Some sort of awful, strangled animal cry left you when he plunged to of his thick fingers into you, the stretch of it an impossible sensation. He curled them into that perfect spot which sent you reeling into another wave of pleasure. You felt the burn of it in every nerve and vein and bone, legs spasming uncontrollable under the onslaught of release. 

It was too much too much too much– 

“Filthy little slut can’t even follow the simplest of orders.” 

His voice was a balm on your flayed skin, even when the words made your face hot with humiliation. 

“Oh I can follow orders, sir,” you spat, rearing off the bed and nipping at his ear that always stuck too far out. “But only from commanders I respect.” 

You barely had time to get the words out before his free hand wound around your throat and pressed hard on your pulse. Air paused and struggled to worm its way through the gap in his grip as you stared into Kylo’s eyes–black like obsidian promises. 

“You’re going to regret that.” 

But with the way the coil in your gut was already tightening again, inches away from thrusting you into another soul wrenching climax, you weren’t entirely sure you would.


	6. Supreme Leader Kylo fucking you for criticizing him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: I mean, we should all be expecting Kylo fucking you as punishment by this point, cause that’s what this is.

His thighs are like Sarrassian iron between your knees as Kylo Ren bounces you on his lap. His cock is just as thick and twice as hard, splitting you to the core like a red-hot saber blade. The throne room echoes with the wet joining of your bodies and the breathy, strangled sounds you can’t bear to keep behind your teeth any longer. 

“Not so talkative anymore,” the Supreme Leader muses into your ear. “Where are all those arrogant little opinions now?”

He’s frustratingly composed, calm and collected as you tremble in his grasp and nearly scream when he bucks his hips up into your dripping cunt. You want to play his game, want to explain with perfect inflection just how foolish his plan of attack was, but then he dropped a leather gloved hand down to stroke fast circles on your clit and the whole world seemed to shatter around you. 

“What is it that’s got you so quiet?” Ren asked, infuriatingly innocent. 

As if he wasn’t balls deep inside you, hitting every perfect spot. As if you couldn’t feel the way his cock twitched with every roll of your hips like he was just on the edge of release with you. 

“Oh, fuck—” 

More words refused to travel from your brain to your tongue as a crashing wave of pleasure shook your legs and tensed your walls around his impossible length. He simply watched, never letting up in the rhythm of his strokes, milking himself in your pussy. 

“Mm,” he hummed, licking a long stripe up the column of your throat. “Is that what it is?”

You whined long and low, dropping your head back as he thrust hard up into you once more. If this was to be your punishment, it seemed like the Supreme Leader had only just begun and there was no clear end to your painfully pleasing torment in sight.


	7. Kylo Ren edging you on his throne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompts: “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” + “I know all of your weaknesses.” + “Were you just masturbating?” “Uh..no..” “Want some help?”
> 
> Warnings: Supreme Bastard Kylo Ren, dom/sub vibes I think, this might be the least bratty reader I’ve ever right so snaps for me, uhhh throne room smut, I suppose this counts as edging, Force sex, anyway there’s smut involved obviously

It was truly humiliating what he was doing to you. ****

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

His voice sent chills over your bare skin, gooseflesh erupting as he whispered against your neck. Never quite touching, never quite close enough. His massive palms pressed fingerprint bruises onto your thighs where they straddled him on his throne. 

You weren’t entirely certain when it all started. Well that wasn’t true, you knew exactly what started this little routine between yourself and the Supreme Leader. It seemed so long ago now, back when he was still just the Commander and you were a lowly secretary in the transports office. You used to fantasize about him almost constantly then, before you knew what those long, thick fingers really felt like wrapped around the column of your throat, buried in your dripping cunt. 

He’d caught you red handed, slick coating your hand as you stroked yourself to completion in one of the empty storage rooms near your workspace. 

It was humiliating then too. 

The way that he looked at you like mud on his pristine boots, like he didn’t love the way you looked with your pants around your ankles and your face coated in a sheen of pleasure, like your desire was repulsive. 

The shame burned hot in your marrow, but it warmed you in your bed on particularly cold nights. 

And you cherished the heat of it in your cheeks. 

Especially now, given how embarrassingly easy it was for Kylo Ren to make you cum without laying a hand on where you needed him most. He was smirking—yes, _smirking_ , the bastard—down at you as you ground your hips into nothing, the Force vibrating at a furious pace on your clit. 

The throne room echoed as a shockingly high pitched whimper somehow managed to escape you. Kylo chuckled in that way he often did which set your blood on fire and made your pussy clench. 

“I know all of your weaknesses,” he mused, tongue peeking out from behind his perfect crooked teeth to lick a stripe up your neck. 

And, stars, he did. 

He knew exactly which angles would wreck you completely, knew just how much to stretch you so he’d get to watch you limp into meetings for a week, knew exactly where you needed his _lipsteethtoungehandscock_ to cum in seconds with his name in your mouth. 

But that also meant he knew how to keep you right on the cusp of wonderful release, pent up and in agony with nowhere to go. Which was exactly what he was doing right now, holding you on his lap while he sat like a proper king—all in robes and black finery—watching your naked flesh mold itself into every shape he wanted. Watched your need gush onto his thigh while the Force tormented you inside, hit some lovely spot, impossibly deep. You couldn’t control the movement of your hips as they tried to stroke and ride a cock that wasn’t there and gods you really couldn’t take much more— 

“Supreme Leader,” you choked out. “Please, sir—.”

Kylo hummed, breaking his eyes away from your pussy just long enough to pin you with his stare. It was like getting the wind knocked out of you. 

“What is it?” he asked, gorgeous lips pouting just a bit as a sudden, hard thrust nearly tossed you from his lap. “What does my little slut want?”

The name set sparks straight to your clit and you couldn’t allocate the energy to be angry about the hit to your dignity. 

“I want you.” 

It felt as though you’d never spoken such a truth before in your entire life. 

“You’ve always wanted me.” 

It wasn’t a question, but you felt yourself nodding anyway. 

His gloved hands dragged you closer, so your breasts pressed against his tunic and your knees wedged tightly on his hips. The smell of him enveloped your senses, ozone and sweat and something that burned. Until the world was nothing but the small gaps where his bare skin touched yours. 

“Now,” he leaned in so your noses brushed together, the sweetest he’d ever been, “beg like the whore you are.”


	8. Supreme Leader Kylo coming home from battle (angst)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt- "silent fury"

You could feel it, the silent fury rolling off him. 

It came to you in waves, crashing and churning and uncharted. He crossed the throne room regally, head held high and dripping with the blood of traitors. Guards rushed out frantically, never knowing if they would be the next victim of his rage which permeated the room and coated your tongue like ozone.

But not you. Even coated in viscera you found Kylo Ren enchanting, boots marking a stark red trail in his wake. 

You thought of those old maps which ominously foretold of dragons lurking in the dark, roiling unknown.

 _Yes_ , you thought, _here there be dragons_. You were staring right at one, right into the black abyss of its eyes—enthralled, spellbound, and drunk on the sensation. 

Kylo Ren, _**your dragon**_ , blood-soaked, merciless, and all the more enticing for it.


	9. Being Kylo's fuck buddy but wanting more (angst)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t give me false hope.” + Kylo?  
> Warnings: slight cockwarming, angst but that’s kinda a given

It’s the after time—the strange in between that comes when he’s finished with you but hasn’t yet extracted himself from your body.

Your chests brush against each other with each breath, sweat and spit easing the slip of your skin. Kylo’s cock pulses with the remnants of his orgasm and you shudder at the feel of it.

You do your best not to think much of the fact that he hasn’t pushed you away yet.

He keeps you locked to his chest laying sideways on the bed, taught muscles in a vice grip that you don’t dare squirm out of. 

His bed, you remind yourself.

You’ve been doing this for years now, you know your place. You come when he calls and let him take what he needs. Let him have your mouth or your hands or your cunt to fuck his frustrations into.

And then he retreats into whatever secrets lie behind that mysterious door in his quarters—which is none of your business—leaving you to clean and dress and disappear until the next night.

But he isn’t leaving now, just holding you hips grinding his half-hard cock into your pussy. With every shallow thrust, some of his release leaks out and stains your thighs.

He’s stained all of you, with blood and cum and sweat. Stained your very soul with his essence.

You can’t help but gasp at the feeling of it, dare to let yourself bask in the aftershocks of pleasure; it was a rare honor.

But not entirely welcomed.

Still, you threaded your fingers through his hair, tugged at the roots how you know he likes and watched his face cinch up when you clenched around his length. 

Kylo grunted, thrusting his hips up just a bit harder, the base of his cock brushing your clit and making you gasp. He took the opportunity to lick into your mouth in that way he sometimes did, all consuming as though he was thirsting for your tongue to slide against his teeth, to catch on the crooked edges. You hummed and pulled on his lovely waves, shivering when his hands brushed up your waist and kneaded the flesh in his palms.

But then his mouth was drawing back, his nose nudging into you with just a bit too much familiarity, and his eyes.

His eyes on yours were gorgeous and molten with flecks of lovely gold and something deeper, something dangerous that made your pulse hammer and your hands shake and it was _too much too much too much_ —

You wrenched yourself from his grasp, his cock slipping from you in a gush if your combined juices. His hands on your skin were like branding irons, leaving painful welts behind.

“Don’t,” you whispered.

His face fell blank as you tucked your knees to your chin and curled away from him on the mattress. It was for the best, you thought. Had to be this way.

“Don’t give me false hope.”

Kylo said nothing, just laid on his side, softening length resting on his massive thigh. You felt him staring, and it took everything in you not to fall back into him. Believe for just a moment that you could be allowed to have more than just his hands on you for a few stolen hours. But you couldn’t, because that would be attachment and attachment to Kylo Ren was not allowed. Anything deeper than his cock in your cunt was nothing more than a distraction.

And Kylo Ren could not be distracted, could not have anything standing in between him and the throne. Between him and the galaxy at his feet.

So you didn’t meet his eye, and you waited until he pulled himself from the bed, slamming the door to his private room closed with a final bang.

You let the noise reverberate in all the empty spaces of the room—in yourself and in the bed that isn’t yours. Then you stand and you dress and you leave.

And you don’t look back.


	10. Kylo Ren doing anything to keep you safe (angst)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe.” 
> 
> Warnings: none

He’s a dragon, a beast, a soulless creature that clings to life the way dark things often do—stubbornly, his continued existence meant as a spit in the face. 

That’s what they say, at least. 

That he’s a villainous being, gnarled face and ruthless hands built for a special kind of destruction. A perfect kind, a complete and total and utterly disastrous breed of ruin. 

They say he’s cruel and demonic and unfeeling. 

And for the most part, they’re right. 

Of course Kylo Ren is what most would call a monster. 

Of course, but— 

Well, you don’t bother to say that, in fact, he is quite possibly the most handsome man you’ve ever had the pleasure of gazing upon. You don’t say he looks like a god carved from marble, with every freckle and mark a gift from the cosmos. Each beauty mark a star that couldn’t bear not to touch his skin. 

Because, why should they know? 

Why should they get to know what you do?

Why should they get to see the way he looks right now: walking across the Resistance hideout you’d been stashed in, splattered with the blood of your captors and red lightning blade ignited in his hand. 

He came all the way here for you, tracked you down to this insignificant outer rim planet and slaughtered countless enemies single handedly. 

For you. 

His hands are steady as they tear at the bindings on your wrists, holding gently the delicate, torn flesh. 

You stare up into the black depths of his eyes and whisper like your voice might shatter him like glass

“You’re here?”

He meets your gaze like it’s the only solid ground he’s been offered after a lifetime at sea— uneasy, unfamiliar, but so precious nonetheless. 

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe.” 

And you know he would. 

Because Kylo Ren is a monster, and monsters stop at nothing. 


	11. Wanting Kylo to stay after he fucks you (angst)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Can’t you stay a little longer?” + “You can’t be that oblivious”
> 
> Warnings: nsfw, cum play (?), mentions of no aftercare

He’s dressing himself, hiding all his lovely skin from your view piece by piece. Both your clothes are strewn about the room, but aren’t always when Kylo is involved?

Yes, always. 

Can’t you stay a little longer? 

He leaves right after you’re done, never even takes a pause to breathe, just peels himself away from your body like it burns him. You know what he’s doing, have known it for a long time but saying it makes it real and you know he won’t come back if it’s real so you don’t say anything at all. 

Instead you whisper it in your head and hope maybe he’ll hear you. Maybe he’ll listen. 

But he never does. 

Just hurtles you over the edge of the most head blank, heart stopping, full body shaking orgasm of your life and sinks his cock into you at a pace that shouldn’t be humanly possible until he’s spent then rips away like he’s afraid your limbs might become permanently entangled. 

Like he thinks you don’t notice the way he mumbles your name right before he’s about to spill paint your insides with his cum. Like he thinks you don’t know he loves the way it drips out of you when you lay still and watch him wander around your quarters collecting his scattered clothes. Like you don’t know he’s thinking that he wants you to keep it inside, keep it safe and feel it on your thighs hours later when he’s gone. 

Like it doesn’t make you his. 

You can’t be that oblivious. 

Of course he can, he never ceases to amaze you—frustrate you. 

He’s strapping his boots on now, getting ready to disappear until the next night and you can’t take the silence anymore. 

Kylo’s hand is still slick with sweat when you take it in yours and guide it between your thighs. The look on his face is static, frozen, as you use his fingers to gather your combined releases and push it back into your aching pussy. You gasp when he curls his fingers just the way you like it, stroking that perfect spot inside you. 

He’s hard again, unfairly massive dick tenting in his pants. You whine, grind down on his hand until there’s a thumb pressing hard against your clit. 

“Kylo, please,” you beg. 

You’re not above begging, not anymore.

He smirks down at you that way he does that makes you shiver with want. 

“Are you really that desperate for my cock already?”

You are, of course you are. You want him constantly, like water, like wine, like every delicious, indulgent thing. But you want more than that too, want all of him. 

And you can’t have that. So you’ll take what you can get. 

Can’t you stay a little longer?

“Yes, ah, please more,” you do your best to sound like the good little whore he wants you to be. 

The pretty, desperate slut he needs you to be to justify to himself why he stays when you ask. Because he does stay, then. Stays and fucks you hard and deep until you scream for him and cum on his cock and then he does it all again. 

And then he does leave. Dresses and leaves without another word and it still isn’t enough. You know that it won’t ever be. Because you never want him to leave, so you’ll always want him to stay just a few more minutes, just one more round, just to wake up to more than just cold sheets. 

But Kylo Ren doesn’t stay. 

So you’ll just have to keep asking. 


	12. Kylo not knowing how to communicate his feelings (angst)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: references to sex, like I suppose some reference to dubcon like if you really squint (it’s probably more like just general apathy from the reader but idk), angst, just so much angst, and like the most amount of fluff I could allow Kylo with this concept.

You’re angry with him. ****

He knows this. You aren’t subtle, aren’t trying to hide it regardless.

You are often angry with him.

He knows because you say so. 

Not just out loud but in the way you don’t seek him out when he returns to his quarters at the end of a long day. It takes him awhile to notice you aren’t waiting for him. Because you always were before. He wonders when you became such an integral part of the decor—his favorite armchair to rest in—when you became the fabric of his sheets and your scent invaded the air filters. 

You don’t speak to him either—don’t glance his way when you cross paths in the corridors—just keep chatting with whatever meaningless coworker is accompanying you as if he was nothing more than a scuffed section of durasteel. It makes his jaw clench and his stomach churn when your eyes flick over him like he hasn’t spent nearly every night for the past few months fucking you senseless. Like he doesn’t know every inch of your flesh, like he hasn’t tasted it—the way you crave him in a way you’ve never hungered for anyone else. 

Like he could be replaced. 

And finally he knows you’re angry because you still let him fuck you like that. 

But there’s no tease, no talking back, no biting his lips, none of what he’s come to expect. You take him without complaint. You let him pull you from your desk, your bed, your meetings, and open like an old book with a shattered spine. And of course, you did that before too, but you don’t say his name in that way he needs to hear, that he has to hear so he’s sure you know he has one.

The right one. 

You don’t break down and beg for him, you don’t pull his hair and fight to leave marks on his throat so there’s something for him to remember you by when he inevitably disappears on another mission. 

Just like he’s about to do. 

Leave for an indeterminate amount of time and— 

Well, you’ve been angry with him before—gods know you’ve hated him and he’s aware of it—but never for this long. 

And he’s not sure exactly what he does that sets you off on these tortuous silent tirades, but he knows it’s different this time. He knows if he leaves like he’s supposed to that there’s a good chance you might not be here when he comes back. Whenever that is. 

There’s this twisted, gut wrenching feeling crushing in his chest telling him that if he doesn’t say something, doesn’t _act_ then you’ll stay empty and boneless in his arms indefinitely. That you’ll still lay in his bed when he needs release, to forget himself in your body—he knows you won’t ever give that up. But your eyes won’t screw shut and you won’t melt into him, won’t claw at his back like you’re trying to make a space for yourself inside his ribcage. 

And Kylo Ren is not a man who simply allows things to slip from his grasp. 

Yet he doesn’t know how to fix this, because truly he’s not sorry. 

How could he be? When he can’t tell what wore your patience thin and stomped on the thread. So many things, he thinks, so many things he’s done that should have sent you running, screaming from his grasp. 

But you don’t ever run. 

Not even now when he has you backed into a supply room, unsure of what exactly he’s going to do next but knowing he has to do something. You’re not looking at him, just unbuttoning your uniform jacket that shouldn’t look as delicious on you as it does, and he can’t take his eyes off the way your fingers move against the clasps. 

He wants to watch your hands dance on the fastenings every day, every night and morning. And he can’t take the blank look in your eyes, the barely there film is maddening. So he doesn’t think, because he wouldn’t know the solution regardless.

Instead, he grasps your hand before it drops to his belt and crushes it in his palm. Clenches his fingers so hard, they shake and he feels your joints pop under the strain. Just stands and tries to forge your bones to his, connect the sinew so that you know. 

When he’s sure your hand is nearly broken under the force of whatever it is he’s trying to tell you, Kylo lets go, turns and rushes out of the room in a flurry of cape and confusion. He doesn’t look back to see if you follow him to the docking bay, doesn’t notice if you’re part of the crowd that watches his Command Shuttle take off. 

He’s not sure what he wants you to know, but he hopes you understand somehow. 

He hopes that it’s enough.


	13. Kylo Ren being really good at doing his hair (fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Headcanons for Kylo being good at doing hair!

I highkey headcanon Kylo being crazy good at doing his hair. 

  * With Leia Organa as a mother, there is no way that boy did not grow up sitting on the edge of her vanity every morning–watching as she twisted and pinned her hair intricately in place–and never asked her to teach him. 
  * Back then he was still Ben, his hands still small and chubby with childhood. His fingers would move clumsily, missing stitches as he practiced braiding his mother’s hair. But he was always a fast learner. Took to it just like he did flying. 
  * But Leia was particular, liked it to look a certain way in a certain style, and so he learned how to do it on himself. It took a bit longer–its hard to get the things to look right when you can’t see the back of your head–but eventually he figured it out. 
  * That’s when he first started wanting to wear his hair long, so he could show off his new skills. Leia definitely ingrained in him how important it was to look presentable at all times, and he never quite grew out of that. Even when he renames himself as Kylo Ren and hides his face away behind the mask, his hair is always nicely done. 
  * This also fostered in him an association with his hair and receiving affection or emotional intimacy. Something about having his hair touched or seen always makes him feel incredibly vulnerable which is part of the reason he hides it now. 
  * That being said, it’s one of the only ‘normal’ ways he really feels comfortable showing affection to his SO. He loves to run his fingers through your hair or just feel it brush his skin when you lay against him. Of course if that’s something that makes you uncomfortable, he would hold back unless you gave him permission.
  * It’s a big thing for him to be bare faced in front of his SO, and it takes awhile to get used to it. But then when he’s lounging with you in your shared quarters, he’ll often tie his pretty waves back in bun or braid the top/sides just to keep it out of his face. 
  * Its such a small, casual thing, but there’s something so incredibly intimate about seeing him like that. If you’re lucky, he’ll let you style his hair for him. He’ll sit between your knees and let you twist the beautiful, silky strands this way and that until your happy with the way they lay on his head. 
  * He would leave it in for as long as possible after that. Just so when he’s away on a mission or in a particularly boring meeting, he can concentrate on the way the pins sit against his scalp and remember the way your fingers placed them there. So gently, afraid to pull too tightly or scratch the skin. It’s the only softness he’s capable of easily accepting. 




	14. Kissing Kylo when he comes home from a long mission (fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “A gentle kiss that quickly descends into passion with little regard for what’s going on around them”
> 
> Warnings: none, Kylo being slightly soft if you squint

Your feet moved quicker, pounding harder against the durasteel with every step you took until your were sprinting in earnest.

It was only a minute ago that you’d seen the update come into the Bridge’s comms: _Command Shuttle docking 0800 hours._

He was back.

Almost a month had passed with no word of his return and while you were loathe to admit it, you missed him terribly. Felt the ache of his absence in every facet of your body.

But the Commander was back and blessedly alive and you needed to see him for yourself, needed it like the hot blood rushing past your ears.

The hanger was fast approaching. You could see the massive ships as you ran, searching frantically for a glimpse of his stupidly dramatic robes and helmet. Something primal, seeping from the marrow in your bones compelled you forward despite the growing stitch in your side and the disdainful looks from fellow officers as you passed.

And then he was there, tunneling your vision until all you could see was the mass of black swirling fabric that was Kylo Ren.

“Commander!” you shouted, revealing in the way he spun around at the sound of your voice.

You would pay for this later, for this display you’re sure of that. Knew there would be punishment, knew there would be blood, but it didn’t matter now.

Didn’t matter when he was pulling the mask from his face—all lovely pale skin and freckles shimmering and dewy with sweat. Didn’t matter when your feet were suddenly leaving the floor of the hanger behind as you leaped into him, your chests like magnets finally released and fitting home. Didn’t matter when your legs hooked around his hips and your nose was buried in the moist, dark locks of his hair. Didn’t matter when he wasn’t throwing you off onto the cold floor.

Or when you pull back and his face fits so puzzle piece perfect in your palms and you can’t help but the surge of forward motion—momentum still flowing in your veins. His lips are so full and pink, unfairly so. They taste like blood and honey when you press yourself to them. It’s not graceful, your teeth click against his and your noses are smashed together.

But it’s delicious, delirious in its relief.

And it only grows deeper, the hanger and the engineers skittering about fade away at the edges not daring to look as his tongue slips into your mouth and floods you with the musky taste of his. You shiver when he growls into you and bites sharply at your bottom lip. You breathe from him, taking all he gives you. It’s sloppy and wet and quite possibly deranged but it’s marvelous.

When he finally tears himself away, your both panting, ribs creaking with the effort. There’s a ringing in your ears that grows fainter as the bustle of the hanger comes back into focus and Kylo’s eyes go glassy.

“My quarters,” he hisses. “One hour.”

And that’s all you get before his arms under you give out and your stumbling to the floor. He doesn’t give you a second glance, just replaces his helmet and marches off towards the Bridge leaving you to the hungry, scrutinizing stares of your coworkers. You scrambled off your ass and dust yourself off as discreetly as possible, bringing a hand up to your lips and feeling the essence of him left behind.

Your feet carry you once again down the hall. There are some things you’ll need to take care of before you’re inevitably incapacitated by whatever the Commander has planned for you. But you go with a certain skip in your step, a certain victory in your cheeks.

It would be well worth it, whatever the price you’d pay.

Because he was safe and you couldn’t think of another soul in the galaxy who could kiss Kylo Ren like that and walk away from it alive.


	15. Kylo being as soft as he can with a long term SO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this ask: bro i feel like no one really talks about how good life would be after reader and kylo like ‘settled’ down a little when there is only a little angst and its domestic bliss (yknow kylos version of it at least) and kylo like cares so much for readers wellbeing heheh i just want to be kylos long term partner  
> Warning: Softness ramblings ahead and very brief nsfw, tread lightly

I feel like there aren’t that many scenarios in which Kylo would ever have the opportunity to be like ‘domestic’, but like here’s what I’m thinking:

He’s known you for a long time now–years even–ever since he became Kylo Ren. Since he grew into this new life and left the past behind. Not to die, not really, because no matter how hard he’s tried, he can’t kill the past. It’s shaped him, molded him irreparably, made him what he is, but that doesn’t feel so heavy anymore. 

Because you don’t care. Don’t care who he was before, don’t want to force him into going back to that. Turn him into something more palatable. 

And he’s never met anyone else who wasn’t interested in changing him. His masters have only ever tried to weaponize his power, and the people from his old life want him to repent and come home and act as if they weren’t the ones who forced him down this path. 

But not you. Never you. 

You know everything and take it all and never turn away from the bloody horror of it. 

Once, in the very beginning, you’d found him in one of the abandoned sectors after he’d poured his frustration out into the unserviced control panels. He’d failed again, something inane and not worth remembering, but he could still feel the sting of hot shame and rage that boiled just under his skin. He did remember the way you looked, though. 

So soft in the harsh light of the hallway, not turning away not frozen with adrenaline, just standing and staring at the blood dripping from his hand where the durasteel had sliced his knuckles apart. He remembered the way your voice sounded too, echoing in the silence.

“You’re bleeding, sir,” you’d said and offered him a bacta patch.

You always carried little things like that, he’d later learned. Pens or first aid kits or ties for his hair. You seemed to collect little pieces of all the people around you. Always afraid of being unprepared, caught off guard. He was never sure where you kept it all. 

It was all downhill from there. Kylo moves quickly, latches on and doesn’t let go easily. He wants to know everything about you, wants to make sure–not that you’re worthy of him, because deep down in the pit of his stomach he’s never felt worthy of anything or anyone–but needs to know that you can withstand him. 

And of course you can.

He’s convinced that you might be the strongest person he’s ever known. 

From the start of your involvement he wants you with him all the time–he still hesitates to call it a relationship, that’s too mundane, can’t even begin to encompass the intensity of what he feels for you. He wants you in his quarters waiting every night, wants to see you touch you, remind himself you’re real. 

And you certainly don’t complain. 

After years, because life in the First Order is a complicated mess of simply trying to stay alive, the two of you can finally settle down together. 

Well, as much as Kylo and anyone who’d chose to spend their life with him could. 

Which is to say not very much, but you do your best.

At this point, he’s climbed the ladder. Kylo’s the Supreme Leader or in whatever other position of power he’d won through sheer force of will and he has the luxury of keeping you by his side. 

His version of domestic bliss is just that, being allowed to have you without it being a weakness. He wants to memorize everything about you, all the little things like how you fold your socks, what songs you’re always humming when you do mindless tasks, or the way you drape yourself over the back of the couch sometimes like a lounging cat. 

His bliss is getting to feel your skin against his, hearing your voice whenever he wants. 

And gods, he’s terrified of losing it. 

Incredibly, churning in his gut afraid that something will go wrong, because shit doesn’t it always? He’s not allowed to have things like this, nice things, peaceful things, happy things, Kylo Ren does not get a good ending. 

Really keeping you close to him is doubly important because as long as you’re in his sight, he can keep you safe. 

And he only trusts himself with that most sacred of tasks, so when you go off base, Kylo is only ever a few paces behind if he’s not glued to your side. He follows you around like a shadow, and maybe that’s all he ever was–a shadow to your radiance. Because that’s what you are, glowing all the time in the light of his adoration. 

You get frustrated with him sometimes, he knows that. He knows he can be overbearing and you think he doesn’t trust you on your own and it isn’t that but–

Well he’s never been good with words. Even after years with you he can’t always communicate what he wants or why he wants it or how badly. You’re entirely capable of taking care of yourself, he likes that about you, how competent you are. He values your intelligence, likes your humor and wit and how quick you can clap back in any situation. 

So he does his best not to cage you, does his best to let you flourish and basks in the warmth of you. You’re never so angry with him that your arms don’t wind around his neck when he leans into you. Never so much that you don’t cry out for him when he inevitably finds himself entangled in your body, drowning in you and savoring every moment. 

When Kylo allows himself attachment–as rare as that is–it’s forever. 

And keeping you is the closest to domestic bliss he’ll ever get. 


	16. Kylo's mundane habits (fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this ask: Oh heres a question thats been rolling around in my head the past few days - do you think Kylo has any weird/gross/annoying habits?
> 
> Like do you think he slops water all over the floor when he gets out of the shower? Does he eat his food from least liked to most???
> 
> Like just.... what are those (maybe) odd habits he has?
> 
> Warnings: none

I think about this a lot because I’m obsessed with the concept of Kylo as a human being? I feel like he often is not allowed to be that. He’s a weapon, a beast, but he also sleeps? And brushes his teeth and have a favorite scent of soap and there are things like this–so painfully human–that he must do but no one ever mentions. 

It feels intimate to know all those little habits, to be witness to those displays of normalcy. 

Kylo is a neat person. He doesn’t own much to make messes with in any case, but if he did, everything would always be in its proper place. So mess wouldn’t be an issue with him. However, when he’s come back to base from a long mission or a battle and he’s covered in blood and soot, often you’ll find the refresher left in shambles, with splatters of blood coating the vanity and That can be a bit intimidating at first. But you quickly get used to it as just part of being with him. 

I think what would mostly be annoying is his absolute refusal to receive medical treatment for more serious injuries. Maybe it’s a pride thing, maybe it’s a form of self punishment, you aren’t really sure, but stars it worries the hell out of you. 

If we’re looking at smaller stuff– the weird or gross–I think a lot of it would depend on how you interpret certain things. I’ve definitely always imagined Kylo as someone who would crack their joints a lot, especially in his hands. So if little things like that bug you, then that might be an example. He almost certainly bites his nails, all the way down to the skin sometimes and lets them bleed when he’s deep in thought. 

He’s big too, all long limbs and legs like tree trunks, so you’re constantly tripping over him when you’re in his quarters. He likes to stretch out in the rare moments when he’s allowed to relax, so you’d be on your way out only fall flat on your face stumbling over his massive feet. And of course the only thing you’re getting in the way of apology is a muffled “hm.” 

But all of this is stuff you could get used to. Things you would miss when he’s gone. Even the annoying bits. 

God I just….love him so much.


	17. Watching Kylo Ren fall asleep and realizing you're in love (fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this ask: Hello i saw requests are open! Can you bless up with some napping on Kylo, maybe some cuddling if you’re so inclined ty <3  
> Warnings: um, you all know me by now, it’s a bit angsty, Kylo Ren being intensely, unfairly handsome, and I suppose what counts as fluff, references to smut

He was asleep when you came in. 

It was a strange sight, Kylo Ren with his lovely dark locks strewn over the pillows and his face lax—no tension in his jaw, no subtle twitch of his eyes. 

You’d never seen anything quite so magnificent. 

He looked frozen, like a painting, soft brush strokes shaping his perfectly pronounced nose against the dark background of the sheets. Dark, blotted freckles dusted his cheeks and bare chest. But no artists could ever capture the glorious flush of his skin, the slight cream pink of it that spread from his ears to his nose and down the graceful column of his throat. There was no replicating the silver threads of scars that decorated him. 

No, Kylo Ren was art come alive, and there was a certain beauty in the fleetingness of the moment. 

A sweet, sharp, melancholy, bittersweet, and everything in betweenness about it. Something humbling and gut wrenching in the knowledge that it would pass, that he would wake and rise and become solid once again. Something fantastical in the way you were allowed to glimpse it, despite its ephemerality. 

And so you didn’t dare disturb the little pocket of time the two of you inhabited. Instead, you stood in the doorway and watched the soft expanding of his ribs with breath, committed the slight parting of his lips to memory. 

Kylo Ren had always been handsome to you, regal and ruthless in the cut of his face and the arc of his blade. But now, he was beautiful, truly stunning, arresting in the gentle slope of his cheek where his long, black eyelashes fluttered. 

And you wondered how you had ever gone a day in your life without gazing upon him. How had you lived without knowing this face? How had you woken and gone about your duties and not cried from the lack of it? The lack of him. 

The thought of it made your heart murmur in your chest as it whispered that you, in fact, had never been alive at all until you saw it. Saw his face and had it burned into your eyelids. 

Your cheeks were wet with the realization. The salty tracks of knowledge met at your chin and dripped onto the floor. 

You thought of all the times you’d laid in that bed, all the ways he’d pushed and pulled and ripped you apart with his body. Thought of the way he wouldn’t kiss you at first, no matter how terribly you craved to know what his pillow plump lips would feel like sliding over your own. Thought of how many years it had taken just for him to let you stay through the night. 

And still, you’d never been gifted with this sight. 

And it filled you more completely than even his cock when he was hard and leaking for you. Stretched you to your limit more thoroughly and left behind a satisfying burn in your bones. 

The feeling that rose in your chest and put a knot in your throat and stopped the air entering your lungs as though it was his hand choking the life from you, hit you like a ship gone into hyperspace. Because finally, you understood what it meant. You’d come to the moment of:

Oh. 

_Oh._

_Oh no._

This horrid creature that leaned over your shoulder and whispered soft, sinful thoughts in your ear whenever you him, whenever you touched him, whenever he so much as looked at you, had torn your heart in half and placed the other piece in Kylo Ren’s hands. 

And what a perilous place that was to be. 

What a perilous thing he was to love. 

Because that’s what this was. 

What it had to be. 

Because why else would you feel this strange, irresistible compulsion to press yourself to his side. To crawl under the covers and rest your head on his chest and tangle your legs and let his heat wash over you for no reason other than to feel near to him. 

The thought was relieving and awful and entirely too much to bear. 

So you took one last look—studied his strong legs under the blankets, the way they wrinkled and curved around his hips, the elegant shape of his profile—and then you turned on your heel out of the room. 

You would wait on the chair outside. When he woke, you’d pretend you’d seen nothing and let him drag you back to his bed, let him do whatever he pleased. Because he always pleased you too. 

And when he was done, you would think of how he looked while he slept, and thank whatever greater power there was that let you sleep beside him.


End file.
